


Always Trust a Dog's Judge in Character

by notebooksandlaptops



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adam Young Still Has Powers (Good Omens), Anxiety Attacks, Coffee Shops, Dogs, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Good Communication Skills, Interior Decorating, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Minor Angst, Pets, Plus one to a wedding, Protective Adam, Renovating a house, Resolving Issues, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Weddings, Work In Progress, adam is still the antichrist just a little bit, adam is studying politcs and philosophy, adam went to the Crowley School Of Gardening, crowley and aziraphale should have kept in touch, eventually, goth warlock, meet cute, pepper and warlock are good friends, resolving abandonment issues, warlock cant garden, warlock meets the gang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-17 22:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20628335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notebooksandlaptops/pseuds/notebooksandlaptops
Summary: When Warlock finds himself at nineteen with parents who’d rather not face the embarrassment of a gay son and – despite being there for eight years – no real sense of kinship to America, he comes back to England to serve awful coffees and revive his old childhood home.There's a dog who keeps visiting though, and won't seem to leave him alone, a boy with curls in his hair who is far too hot to be legally allowed to exist and a rather odd parade of customers to the coffee shop.There's a life to be lived here, a life Warlock was never really meant to have a piece of. But a stroke of luck, a mix up of babies and an accident of birth - along with a little bit of ineffability - is going to lead him to it anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt:
> 
> A is in their backyard enjoying the nice weather when an animal saunters into view. A looks for a collar and finds nothing, but it lets A have a few cuddles before going on its way. The same thing happens for the next few days until one day, B appears trailing behind! “Aha! So this is where you’ve been running off to.” 
> 
> Ah, one more thing. The animal is B’s (familiar) hellhound.

In his head he can hear her: _You can show no weakness, dear Warlock. You cannot expect to rule the many wrathful legions of hell with tears in your eyes. Always be affirmative and forthright. If something is wrong, we don’t cry about it, we demand it be fixed._

Nanny’s voice was always calm and no nonsense when she went through her many ‘lessons’, though she very rarely stuck to them in practice (she was, in fact, always the first one to comfort him when there were tears in his eyes, though he was pretty sure she did stick to her stuff on revenge – whenever Warlock’s mother or father took back a promise to spend ‘quality time’ with their son things like the car or the coffee machine ended up mysteriously malfunctioning the next day).

He may be able to hear his dear old Nanny, but she’s not here and there are no legions of hell to command. Instead there’s only this; an empty country house, a disinherited boy with his hair thrown up in a small bun, and the tears that stream down his face.

When he’d found himself at nineteen with parents who’d rather not face the embarrassment of a gay son and – despite being there for eight years – no real sense of kinship to America, he’d come back to England. The meagre money he’d managed to hold onto when his parents cut him off had all gone on his plane ticket. In a stroke of luck his mother had got in contact one last time to say he could have the old house if he agreed not to ‘stir up a fuss with the newspapers’ about his disinheritance.

So. Nineteen years old. Abandoned house that needed more work than he could possibly afford. Exactly two cans of cider and one pack of pork pies in the kitchen. And….that was it. That was the sum total of Warlock’s life now.

_Never worry, dear Warlock, for you will always have those who love you. _That was brother Francis now, popping up in his head as if all the time between then and now had disappeared and the old gardener was walking around the tangled garden now, telling him all about brother slug and sister spider.

He could do with a gardener. This place looked awful. His parents hadn’t bothered with the upkeep at all in the past eight years. It was like they’d suddenly recalled that living in England wasn’t the sort of thing they had ever wanted to do. It was like all of Warlock’s life had been some kind of dream for them and now they were…getting back into the real stuff.

Except for Warlock, his life in America hadn’t felt real at all. He'd felt like a freak every time he'd opened his mouth in school (how was he supposed to know not everyone had been taught the one hundred and twenty two best methods of torture by the time they were six?) He’d had his parents with him, but he’d lost the only two parental figures that had ever really mattered in one fell swoop. And yes, he'd come to realise that they hadn't exactly raised him....normally. Bit odd, maybe part of some cult or something that his parents had forgotten to vet for. But they'd been kind and warm and Nanny had had the best fashion sense of anyone he knew and they hadn’t even said _goodbye. _

(When Warlock's mother took him clothes shopping for the first time in America, she kept heaping in piles of pastel coloured shirts into the basket, like nobody had bothered to tell her that black was the only colour that _never ever _went out of style - the only colour fit for a ruler of the damned)

He sighed, running his hands through his hair and messing the hold on the bun so that a few strands of dyed black fell about his eyes. What the hell was he going to do? What was he doing here? Alone and on the garden steps of a building he couldn’t possibly afford to run? He’d made a mess of things. If he’d just _not _come out, if he’d just _not _been gay then maybe—

“Shut up!” Warlock snapped, head raising from his hands. Because it had come to his attention that _something _was yapping. Loudly. And it was sort of ruining his ‘emo-kid-at-the-end-of-his-tether’ vibe he had going on.

Except when he looked up there was a dog.

Just a dog.

It was a small thing; black and white fur, a tail, very— doglike. Nanny had always said one day _he’d _get a dog, but then Nanny had left, and his mother had been allergic and so Warlock had never really spent much time around them. He was more of a cat person anyway.

_When you meet a dog – or any animal on earth you wish to crush beneath your heel – you must let it know who’s boss. _Nanny had said, demonstrating with a pigeon who had seemed so terrified of her it had gone out and brought her back two sugars for her tea.

Well, fat lot of good that advice was now. You couldn’t be the Boss if you were found crying, could you?

“What do you want?” Warlock glared at the dog (his very _best _glare. Him and Nanny had had glaring lessons through ages eight till eleven and they _still _generally managed to get him what he wanted if he used them right).

The Dog barked, unparsed.

“Uh, right.” Warlock frowned, dropping the glare and instead waving a hand uncertainly, “Shoo, go on, get off then.”

Nothing.

“Look, I don’t have any food, alright? I’m just—”

The dog, rather suddenly, decided that Warlock’s lap was the most comfortable place to stick its long, wet black nose.

"Ew, get off what are you-"

The dog barked, licked the underside of his wrist, wagged it's tail.

Warlock groaned.

Except…it wasn’t that bad, was it? He reached out a timid hand to stroke the thing and had to admit that even _he _was heart warmed by the happy bark the little thing let out.

There was no collar. Maybe he was lost or something. Could Warlock take in a dog? Nah, brother Francis wouldn’t have agreed with that kind of thing when Warlock barely had the means to feed himself. Better this dog have a good home.

Still…

“I need to go—apply for actual jobs,” he muttered. He’d never worked a job in his life so it would…certainly be interesting. “You can…stick around the garden, but you’ll probably want to go back to wherever you came from.”

And not at _all _because he was lonely and _definitely _just because it was punk rock to look after stray animals, Warlock left a pork pie outside that night in case it came back.

-///-

As far as Warlock could figure it, he had two options.

One: work some low paying job and be thankful he didn’t have to pay rent, but generally still be pretty out of pocket.

Two: sell the house and have a small fortune to fall back on, but have to pay rent and never see his childhood home again.

At almost all moments, he was certain about his decision to go with option one. It was only rarely – like when he was getting up to go to work at 4:30AM – that he regretted this decision.

Three weeks. Three weeks since he was sat in the garden crying and he’d managed to find a little job at a coffee shop in town. Of course, the owners wanted him in at six AM sharp to clean up before they opened, and with no discernible way to afford a car he had to walk the 45 minutes on foot. But it wasn’t _that _bad, he reasoned. It was better than it _could _have been.

Which was all well and good, until he was staring at the bell of a coffee shop door, still completely inept at making those pretty patterns on the flat whites despite his co-workers insistence that he was just being lazy and Jesus Christ, what the ever loving fuck, he had no idea _what _he was doing with his life.

If he'd stayed in America his father would have made sure he had a job in politics. That he'd been set for life. it wouldn't have been any fun, necessarily but it would have been better than this, right?

Except he'd also have had to get a wife and drop the 'goth act' and both seemed like a pretty big way to live a life he'd resent.

“America must’a been great, huh?” Stacy had pocked her head out of the kitchen again to chatter. She had plenty of questions about America. She seemed to think that living in New York meant he was deeply acquainted with all sorts of things; she’d even asked if he’d met the president. (He had, actually. The guy was a right tosser.)

“Uh, yeah.” He muttered.

“And all that fashion! Yet you insist on wearing all that black. I bet you’d look really charming if you cut your hair and got it a _proper _colour. Oh and a suit would probably do you well, a pretty young girl might be interested then”

_All those who insult or annoy you suffer the worst torments; ants will crawl under their skin and fire will consume their bones while they live and breathe. You will be a tyrant like no other. _

Nanny had been – probably – insane, but at least her advice sometimes amused him in the face of the many assholes the world had thrown at him.

“Interested exclusively in pretty young girls are you?”

Warlock spun round.

There was a gaggle of kids who had settled in the corner – laptops and textbooks out; uni kids, they had no _idea _how lucky they were – except they were no longer _all _in the corner. The curly haired one (a leader if ever Warlock saw one) was leant over the front of the counter like he owned the place, confidence oozing from a voice that Nanny would probably have been proud of.

He was – admittedly – hot as fuck.

“Uh,” he stumbled. He had no idea if Stacy was still watching him and if she _was _flirting was off the table but that _smirk._

Actually, Warlock didn’t know how to flirt. Not at all. So maybe it was best if he just stuck to making coffee.

“What can I get you?”

“Tripple expresso. Four triple expressos,” at Warlock’s expression the guy gave something of a wicked grin, “Hey, go big or go home man.”

Warlock tried to remember how to make an expresso and thought he did pretty well consider that the boy was still staring at him.

Was it goth to blush? Probably not, but his face was entirely red.

“You’re new here,” the boy pointed out.

“Yeah. Got the job two weeks ago.”

“No, not in the coffee house. In town. I know _everyone._”

Warlock gave him a look, “Yeah, right.”

“Swear,” those curls gave that boyish charm _just _a bit more leverage.

“Well, can’t be much fun. Humans can be crap.”

Adam raised an eyebrow, “My Uncles would have your neck for that one. They’re quite taken by us.”

Warlock did _not _point out that Adam made it sound like his Uncles were not actually human. Brother Francis had once said it was rude to comment on a person’s species to their faces. Instead he shrugged, “Yeah. Just got here from America. I mean, not just got here. I lived here when I was a kid. I’m back now.”

“Shit! You’re the guy who’s moved into the abandoned mansion up on Berry Lane.”

Warlock set the coffees down on the counter. “Are you going to tell me it’s haunted?”

“There are worse things that it could be,” The guy smiled, “I’m Adam, by the way. Got to go, fucking theories of democracy are calling. See you around—”

“Warlock.”

Adam gave a small grin at the name. Most people reacted a little aghast or occasionally – as Stacy had – ‘_Your parents _called _you that? They must have _hated _you!’_. Either that or they asked for his _real _name, like he’d made it up to go with his goth persona.

What could Warlock say? He was goth from birth, baby.

Adam though only looked faintly amused.

“See you around, Warlock.” He said slyly, slipping a tenner into the tip jar and licking his lip.

_Fuck. _

_-///-_

The Dog was back, sniffing at the plastic bags that Warlock was struggling to carry back from the shop down the road.

“Go away, you,” Warlock said, trying to hide the fact that he was smiling.

(What? It was lonely, the only person you ever spoke to being Stacy who had moved on from asking about America and was now trying to set him up with her niece)

The dog gave a bark.

Warlock sighed.

The track home could be cumbersome, but he’d managed to get one portion of the house back to being relatively cosy. He’d not yet used the oven, but the microwave and the fridge all seemed in working order despite the years. He’d worked hard to clean it.

And yet he was helpless when it came to the dog. He let him in, and watched him track mud all across the tile floor.

He’d have to try and find a mop in this place.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll find something for you,” he muttered, putting a microwave lasagne in for the designated fifteen minutes and trying to fish out some ham slices for the dog.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Adam warned the Dog.

The Dog barked.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m in a shitty mood. Bad day. Well. Mostly.”

Adam had been in again. It had been two days since they’d met, and Adam had come in every day. Not that they’d _spoken _both those days. Tracy had been at the counter for one for one of them, and Warlock only caught a sight of those curls buried in some big old boring looking textbook, laughing when his friends made a joke. But he had been _in. _And Warlock had gotten to speak to him again today.

It probably went pretty far to show that that was the highlight of his day.

“Adam says he knows everyone. Think he knows you?” Warlock glanced down at the dog who barked twice.

“Bet he’s got a girlfriend or a boyfriend or whatever. Just one of those flirty people.”

Another bark.

He reached down to ruffle the dog’s hair and for just a moment he could have sworn those eyes were red.

Just a trick of the light, maybe.

“Come on then, you can’t stay here all night.”

He let the dog out, and reached into his pocket. Adam had left another stupidly large tip again today. Ten pounds. He glanced at the note, turning it in his hands and—

_Was that a phone number scribbled on the back? _

_Holy fucking shit. _

He got out his phone, checked google. The number didn’t pop up. No company then. A number. Maybe Adam’s number.

_You can show no fear young Warlock, not ever. Bravery will be your greatest asset. You will take what you want and know what you want. _

He swallowed, typed it into his phone.

_Well. Here we go. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we love the ineffable husbands and they'll certainly be making appearances but I was desperate for more content for these two and more Warlock content in general, so here we go folks. Hope you'll join me for the ride. 
> 
> Expect eventual Warlock and Crowley resolving their issues because Crowley raised that kid and you can't tell me that she wasn't a parent by the end of those eleven years.


	2. Chapter 2

“Get off, no, here, get off.”

The Dog was becoming more and more insistent the more Warlock hung out with him. It was as if he’d decided the All-Dressed-in-Black-I-Don’t-Give-A-Damn exterior was a fraud (which personally offended Warlock who had spent most of his life perfecting it.)

It had taken to – when it was around – resting its head on Warlock’s belly and looking cutely content for the little fiend Warlock knew it was. Warlock knew that it was a fiend because it kept on stealing his food _and _it had dug up some of the roses last week.

Still. It was nice to have company, he supposed. A friend. And the garden was as good a place to lay for a few hours as any. He was still daunted by the task of fixing up the house.

His phone buzzed and he reached for it.

_How can you not be a dog person??? -A_

Warlock glanced down at the dog that was currently laying on him.

_Cats are goth. Besides, they’re less needy. More independent. -W_

Adam didn’t seem the type who was used to people disagreeing with him. He seemed to give off confidence in waves. Even over texts Warlock could feel this—tug. Of course, Warlock supposed that could be how much he wanted to mush his face against Adam’s. Generally, that was the kind of thing that made you want to agree with someone.

_My dog is plenty independent and he’s not at all needy. AND he’s a hellhound. What’s more goth than that? -A_

_Stacy said your dog was ‘a cute little thing’. -W_

_He can be cute and a hellhound. Don’t let looks deceive you ;) -A_

Warlock sighed. He’d been talking to Adam like this for forty-eight hours, and they had been some of the most frustrating and wonderful hours since he arrived. Brother Francis would tell him something about the pleasures and wonders of caring for someone.

Of course, Brother Francis had left.

He sighed, sitting up and dislodging the Dog.

The house lay before him, sprawling. He’d grown up here, and he’d grown up in a house just as big in America, but he’d never _thought _about how big they were, not until they were devoid of life and only had one nineteen-year-old, mostly penniless boy to fix them up.

_Overall though, if I had to choose a pet I think I’d go with a snake. -W_

Warlock wondered if the house had snakes. It might.

_My uncles like snakes. -A_

Adam, it seemed, had a wealth of ‘relatable content’ from those Uncles.

_Why a snake though?? -A_

_I dunno. When I was a kid I used to have a lot of dreams about being held by one. Just rocked by this huge Fuck Off snake. It was…cosy. -W_

In his dreams he’d never used his cot, not really. When he was a baby he’d just been rocked to sleep by a snake, and even when he was older he could remember vivid dreams of running his hands over deep black scales.

_That’s a little weird dude. -A_

_Good weird. I like you. -A_

Warlock _did not _blush. Nope. Absolutely not.

When he glanced down at the dog, it seemed to be giving him a knowing stare.

“Oh, piss off.”

-///-

Considering the fact that Warlock had spent so long hanging around with a gardener as a child, he was absolutely useless when it came to the actual gardening.

Then again, brother Francis had never actually seemed to _garden _exactly. He’d just be in the garden, looking vaguely muddy and shooting glances at Nanny whenever she decided to join Warlock for his outside play.

He’d found a shed with some shit in it, but he had no idea what he was supposed to actually _do _with the trowel other than dig stuff up. And he didn’t _want _to dig most of the stuff up, he wanted to plant things. Besides, he couldn’t _exactly _tell which plants were weeds or not. Brother Francis had said that _all _plants deserved love, but he was pretty sure those little yellow things were taking up too much space.

So here he was, twenty quid in his pocket to spend on something. He figured it’d be easier if he started renovating the garden and then he could go from there with the house. And if he was going to start with the garden then a gardening centre seemed the right place to go.

All of this would be fine if he knew even one thing he was supposed to buy.

Was all this compost thing necessary? What about these tools? Or those slug repellents; _you must love all your brothers and sisters, even sister slug._

“Warlock?”

He had been staring very intensely at a set of ‘must have’ weed killers and wondering what the difference was between ‘super destroyer’ and ‘ultimate end to all weeds’. Needless to say, he was happy for the distraction. For _any _distraction.

The girl lounging back against one of the flower stands wasn’t someone you’d forget: baggy shirt with a faded slogan reading _peace bitch, _shorts that had seemingly been cut at odd lengths so one leg was longer than the other and a pair of red doc martins.

“Uh, Pepper was it?”

“Yeah,” Pepper glanced behind Warlock, and Warlock had the distinct impression that he was being judged, “You alright? First time I’ve seen you out in the wild.”

“Uh. Yeah, I just—don’t exactly know—” he gestured behind him. “I have no clue what I’m doing.” He muttered, admitting defeat.

Pepper shifted after a moment, running a hand through her short-cropped hair. “Come with me.”

Warlock didn’t need to be told twice. This girl looked like she could face down all the demons in the world and say ‘piss off’ and they’d _listen. _(Of course, Warlock had no way of knowing how close to the truth this was, but he was an intuitive boy)

She took him through the garden centre and into the little café and – without asking – ordered two orange lolly pops, handing it over and gesturing for him to sit. “So. What is it that you need?”

Warlock struggled internally for a moment. Should he say? But then, she looked like she’d know if he lied anyway. He sighed, “I moved from America with nothing but the house, I don’t want to _sell _the house, but I don’t have a clue how to pay for the upkeep and so I’m starting with the garden but fuck if I know how to garden, which is really ironic, because one of my major parental figures growing up _was _a gardener, but I don’t think he was a very good one, because I don’t think many gardeners love slugs.”

Pepper took a lick of her lolly, “I can see why Adam is quite taken by you. Little goth boy falling apart over a garden, hm?” Her words felt teasing and for the first time in a while he felt his shoulders sag and relax into the gentle poke.

“Yeah. I know. But it’s punk rock to look after the planet.”

“It really is.” Pepper agreed.

“So? What do I do?”

Pepper thought for a moment, “Lavender. For the bees. And get a book on gardening. And try and invite Adam round, because his Uncles a whiz with plants and I think some of it’s rubbed off onto him.” She smiled suddenly, “I think we’re going to be great friends.”

It too a stronger man than Warlock to argue with Pepper.

Warlock didn’t want to anyway.

-///-

_If you could change the world, would you? -A_

It’s almost midnight and Warlock just finished with the Lavender. He’s got work in the morning too. Maybe he’ll run an all nightery.

_Loaded question, Adam. -W_

_Sometimes I think that the world could still be better. That we missed our chance. -A_

Warlock shrugged. If Adam was talking about climate change maybe but—

_Humans can be a bit shit, yeah, but I think I’m with the theologians on the matter of free will. Better to have it than to not. Or something. That’s why I’m an anarchist. Mostly. -W_

_Yeah. Yeah, I think you’re right. Thanks Warlock. -A_

Warlock rolls over to stare at the sky. He keeps laying on the lawn like this. Above him, he can spot the great dipper. Nanny used to love stargazing. Sometimes she’d sneak him out of bed to teach him each and every constellation, all the names of all the stars.

They’re some of his very best childhood memories.

_No problem, Adam. -W_

-///-

Adam and his friends are regulars and Warlock would say he’s more than a little biased towards the cute boy who keeps texting him so he’s counting him as an outlier and thus Adam and co are not allowed to be counted when it comes to Warlock’s favourite customer.

So, if they don’t include Adam then Warlock’s favourite customer is – without a doubt – Newton Pulsifer.

As far as aesthetics go Newton Pulsifer has none. He looks like an office worker from the 90’s, only to be an office worker from the 90’s you would have to have skill with a laptop and whenever Newt is in the shop the Wifi tends to spontaneously glitch out and Newts only hand-held devices are smashed so badly that Warlock wonders how they even continue to cling to life.

But he is kind and he tips—well, Adam had changed the meaning of ‘tipping well’ but he tips a normal amount and really, he’s a good guy.

“Morning, Warlock.” Newton’s fingers were fumbling in his pocket for the right change (Warlock usually likes it when the customers use contactless, but Newton would probably short circuit their whole cash machine, so he prefers the extra few moments waiting for him to dig out the cash he needs).

“Morning.”

Newton fumbles, and something comes tumbling out of his pocket. For some reason, he goes beat red. Warlock frowns, glances down and—

“Holy shit.”

_Marriage is a special human tradition between two people who love each other a great deal, young Warlock, and wish to be together forever. Of course, humans don’t actually _live _forever, but it is the sentiment that counts. Quite sweet, don’t you think, my dear? _It’s Brother Francis, as if he was right there in the shop. But he wasn’t. Instead there was just Newton was trying to stuff the box back into his pocket.

“I’m going to lose it,” he muttered, over and over, “I’m going to lose it, and then it’ll all be ruined and she only wanted me ‘cos it was the apocalypse and-“

“Mr Pulsifer, your tea?” He hadn’t technically ordered, but he was a reliable type of guy, the type of guy with a ‘regular’ order. Lemon and ginger tea wasn’t exactly goth, but then, if goth was a scale then Newton was about fifty miles down the way from him.

His girlfriend on the other hand—

“Oh! Yes, sorry. It’s just- well, I got the ring see. And it’s from my mum. And if I lose it, my mum will chop my head off. And I’m not even sure she’ll _want _it from my family because our families are in a bit of a feud or—were, or something. Anyway. Sorry, you’re a young kid I’m sure you don’t want to hear all this from me. And—Oh! Hi Adam.”

Adam really did know everyone. Pepper was by his side, her t-shirts logo now reading ‘smash the patriarchy’. She was pointedly not paying much attention (which made Warlock think she really _was _paying a lot of attention), though she did give a small smile towards Newt.

Adam leaned forward ever so slightly on the counter. He had this way of making everything in a room seem like it belonged to him. “Don’t tell me you haven’t already done it,” Adam puffed, glancing outside, “The weather can’t stay good _forever, _Newt. Someone would notice.”

Warlock glanced outside. He supposed the weather had been nice for a while. He’d been spending a lot of time laying on the grass near the old greenhouse with the dog by his side, staring at clouds and thinking about time. Ten years ago, he had played on that grass under the watchful eye of brother Francis. Now he was nineteen and he didn’t know where brother Francis was.

“Right, well, I am getting to it, obviously, and we’re going to the park again tonight so I’ll probably, um-“

Adam rolled his eyes and for a moment – a trick of the light – they looked red. Huh. “You have until the end of the week.” He said, as if he ran Newton’s life (there was a _small _possibility that Adam ran some kind of gangster mob – he certainly gave out a certain vibe that wasn’t quite befitting his dungarees and curls).

Newton nodded, and went to take his tea, dropping some coins on the counter as he went.

Pepper popped her gum. “Adam,” she said, half warning.

Adam suddenly looked slightly _less _sure of himself which…didn’t suit him very well. “So. I was thinking,” he started slowly, like he was tasting each of the words in his mouth before he said them. He was looking directly at Warlock, which was unfair, because Warlock was pretty sure it was illegal to make someone feel so overwhelmed by his looks. “I’d like to take you out. On a date.” He looked…nonchalant but there was something about him…was Adam _nervous?_

Nerves didn’t seem to suit Adam very well. It seemed somehow oxymoronic. Especially considering—

“Dude. You wrote your number on a tenner and I text you. Yeah, yeah, I’ll go on a date with you.”

Generally, as a rule, the whole ‘goth’ look worked better with a neural expression (he hadn’t smiled in a photograph in ten years) but the way Adam was looking at him now—

He leaned forward slightly, over the counter, and kissed the others cheek, feeling a smile spread bright over his features – and it only got worse when Adam started _blushing._

“This is cute and all,” Pepper drawled, catching Warlock’s eyes and winking. “But we’ve got work to do.”

Their table in the corner was indeed covered with books, paper, pens, highlighters, the rest.

“Oh, yeah,” Adam seemed to regain some of his composure, “I’ll pick you up tonight? Seven? Big empty house up on the way out of town, yeah?”

Warlock nodded watching Adam walk off.

_One day, dear Warlock, you’ll meet someone who you care about very much and who cares about you just the same, and it will be glorious. _Brother Francis had murmured to a young Warlock who he’d sat on his lap. (Warlock hadn’t failed to notice the way his eyes had strayed to Nanny at the time)

_It is very important that when you are older – much older mind _and she’d glanced over the rims of her glasses with those deep yellow eyes - _and meet someone you wish to be your partner, you do not rule them like you will rule over all the spawns of hell and earth, _Nanny had said, during one of her ‘softer’ moments, _You must let them dictate the speed of your relationship and love them for who they are no matter the consequences._

Well. Maybe it was finally going to be time to use some of that advice. He’d come to England – in part at least – because he couldn’t be who he was at home. But he’d never _experienced _the whole gay thing, he just knew he was. (At school he’d been the weird goth English kid who spouted off weird nonsense his Nanny had taught him). Now though…

Well. He’d come here to get to live a different sort of life.

He was living it.

-///-

Warlock got off work at exactly 16:34. It should have been 16:00 but Stacy had spilt the mop bucket in the back room and Warlock had agreed to help man the fort while she sorted it out.

Warlock got home at exactly 17:28. It shouldn’t have taken that long, he recognised, but that damn Dog had caught up with him halfway home and barked at him until he dropped down to pet the thing.

Which meant that Warlock had an hour and a half from that point, to the point where Adam was supposed to arrive.

He reckoned that – makeup included – it would take him about fifty minutes to get ready. Which left him with forty minutes to garden.

Here is where things started to go wrong.

In no particular order:

1) he’d found that someone had dug up his lavender plants (he was blaming that damn dog who had run off somewhere now he was home)

2) he’d locked himself out of the shed somehow, and now couldn’t remember which plant pot he’d put the spare keys under

3) he found that those yellow plants he was pretty sure were weeds had started encroaching on an area of the lawn

4) he’d tripped and got mud all up his arms and legs

5) when he’d tripped, he’d dropped his phone which had the alarm set for when he had to go inside

6) he ended up battling with his secateurs and the shrubbery which were _fighting back _with all their thorns and shit.

7) he lost track of time

Which meant that, a good hour and a half later, he missed the knock on his door. He was not prepared at all to be seen by _anyone _let alone a boy he was trying to impress. And – more importantly – he missed Adam wandering into the garden.

“Warlock, what are you—"

“Shit, fucking hell, shit,” Warlock turned, half shocked, with Nanny’s cheery voice echoing in his head and reminding him _never let anyone catch you off guard, Warlock. _Always _be ready, always be alert – otherwise, they’ll use it against you. _All very well and good saying _that _Nanny, if only she’d told him a way to fix the situation if he ever _was _caught off guard.

Of course, Nanny had always expected the very best behaviour. She would assume that he _wouldn’t let _himself be caught off guard, if she’d told him not to be.

“Hey…” Adam glanced around the mess of a garden, which was somewhat preferable to him glancing over the mess that was Warlock right now, but only just. “Gardening?”

“Adam I—what time is it? Shit. I lost track of time. I’m not even ready for—I’m not even dressed and—”

Adam held up his hands. He looked _good _Warlock realised. Button up white collared shirt, skinny jeans that clung so tight he must have poured them on…it was a good look on him. A _really _good look.

And here was Warlock, muddy and sweaty and gardening, of all things.

“Warlock,” Adam said softly, stepping forward, “It’s okay,” he held out Warlock’s phone – must have picked it up from the ground somewhere and he couldn’t believe he’d managed to drop it. “Hey,” he walked forward, and Warlock’s breath hitched as he ever so carefully brushed a strand of Warlock’s hair behind his ear. “You know, I was going to take you out for pizza.”

_Going to… _Warlock’s heart sank. He’d scared him off. He’d scared off this wonderful boy and—

“but instead, how about we order pizza in and do the garden? I’m pretty good. I’ll—” he glanced at the thorny mess Warlock had been working on, “I’ll sort this out, you can go and get changed if you’re that fussed. But Warlock, I mean this when I say it, you look…gorgeous.”

He _wasn’t _blushing, he really wasn’t. He’d been caught off guard and it had all gone terribly except that Adam was looking at him _like that _so it couldn’t have gone _that _terribly and Jeez, did Adam really think that he was gorgeous? It wasn’t exactly the most goth word, but he’d take it. God, from those eyes, from that boy, he’d take a lot of things.

“I’m just going to go and…get less muddy.” He managed to murmur.

Adam’s smile was blinding. Almost literally. Sometimes Warlock wondered how the hell he’d met this boy.

Warlock rushed inside. He wasn’t going to be told twice. He was still a little off kilter about being caught off guard and even more off kilter about being called gorgeous but there it was.

Gorgeous.

Adam thought he was gorgeous.

He kicked off his boots, trying to find something that would both making him look relatively well put together _and _something he wouldn’t mind gardening in. Eventually he settled on some of his own dark skinny jeans and an old AC/DC band shirt he knew was vaguely flattering. Eyeliner, mascara and a little bit of lip gloss later and he was rushing back outside to find-

“You’re messing with _me. _You’ll all bloom perfectly if you know what you’re good for-“

“Adam? Are you…talking to the plants?” Warlock jumped down from the front steps, a small grin on his face.

Of course, he forgot about whatever Adam had been doing when Adam turned to look at him and made that face.

“You—you look amazing.”

Both boys were blushing. Warlock couldn’t help it.

“Uh, thanks.” He muttered, rubbing the nape of his neck, “S’nothing really.”

Adam shook his head, “It really is something. Warlock, there’s something about you honestly--” he coughed, “Anyway. Pizza.”

There was no way the pizza guy had gotten there that fast, but there were two full pizzas on the lawn. Warlock had known Adam a little over two weeks and sometimes he honestly believed that the guy had some kind of spooky powers.

Maybe this was just what a crush felt like. 

He sat on the lawn. At first it was a little bit awkward, of course it was. Warlock had never been on a date before. Never. And his first one was happening in the backyard of his old house. It was...surreal almost. He’d moved here from America to be who he was and he was actually _achieving that _somehow. 

“So...what’s the story behind this place. It’s been abandoned for years.” Adam asked finally, when they were almost finished with their food. 

“It’s sort of...well. I dunno. I lived here till I was eleven, almost exactly actually. My birthday was the 1st of May and by the 2nd my Dad had decided that we needed to move back to America immediately. Didn’t even bother to sell the house. It was like...like he’d suddenly forgotten why we were even living here in the first place. Weird.”

“Your birthday is the 1st of May?” Adam’s eyebrows were raised. 

“Uh, yeah, that’s what you took from that?” 

“Sorry. Just...so’s mine.” 

“Oh.” Bizzare. Warlock felt a small smile curved his lips. 

“Anyway, tell me more about it. Did you miss it here?” Adam had settled back on the grass, laying down. Warlock went with him after a moment, their bodies nearly touching. It was starting to get dark, the first few stars appearing in the sky.

“Yeah. I mean, I think I mostly missed my Nanny and the gardener. I dunno. They were sorta-- I mean my parents--”

He shrugged. 

When he glanced over, Adam was frowning. 

Warlock found oddly enough, that he wanted to keep the frowns off Adam’s face for as long as possible. He screwed up all the courage Nanny had tried to instil in him from such a young age and reached out to grab Adam’s hand. 

Adam intertwined their fingers. 

Warlock’s breath caught in his throat.

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Warlock managed, after his heartbeat had stopped having a seriously ridiculous reaction to _holding hands, _“What about you? You seem to know pretty much everyone.” 

“Oh. Yeah. I’ve always been a bit like that really. My patch is my patch, sort of thing.” Adam shrugged. “People...like me. I dunno. Sometimes I think I make them.”

Warlock furrowed his brow. “What’s that meant to mean?”

For a moment, Adam looked uncertain, before suddenly the weight that Warlock had seen on his shoulder dissipated and he shrugged again. “Nothing. Hey. Look!” Adam followed his finger upwards, towards the sky, “North Star. That’s the only one I know. My uncle constantly tries to teach me but I’m shit at it.”

Warlock rolled his eyes, “Nobody's shit at constellations, Adam.” He shifted his eyes to the sky again. “There-” he pointed out, “That’s the Orion's belt there, and there’s his sword and-”

And they watched the stars together and Warlock wondered if it was goth of him to die of happiness on the spot.

-///-

Late night gardening, it turned out, was more fun with a friend.

A _lot _more fun. 

The thorns didn’t even seem to be getting him anymore and - in one memorable moment - Adam accidently knocked into him from behind and both of them ended up toppling to the group in the dirt. 

It was after midnight, by the time Adam walked back out to his bike, the two of them covered in mud but grinning anyway. 

“I had a really nice night,” Warlock murmured. 

“Yeah. Me too.” Adam seemed to sway for a moment, almost undecided, before he leaned forward and very, very chastly pressed a kiss to Warlock’s lips. 

“I’ll see you at the coffee shop,” and with a cheeky boyish grin that _really _shouldn’t be that hot - he was gone.

-///-

When Warlock woke up the next morning, he rolled out of bed and groaned. It was early. He had work.

He shuffled through the clothes in his bedside draw, trying to find something suitable to put on (it was a blessing to all goths out there that most uniforms insisted on black).

It takes him the trip downstairs, two coffees and a slice of dry toast (he forgot to buy butter last time he was out – he’s still getting the hang of the whole ‘doing-his-own-food-shopping-thing’) to realise the state of his garden.

The state of his _garden._

Because, when he looks out of the window – after barely two short hours gardening with Adam – the whole place from top to bottom is in full bloom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't think Pepper and Warlock would be friends you're wrong. Those two would kick up a storm together. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Comments are life if you feel up to letting me know what you thought!


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re happy today,” Stacy’s cheerful chatter startles Warlock out of the daydream he was having about Adam, the garden and generally _less _clothes than they’d been wearing the night before.

“Oh,” Warlock realises that he’d been smiling. His resting face is normally pretty neutral – gothic even – but he was _smiling. _He couldn’t seem to have stopped himself if he’d tried. He’d had a date last night; a real date with a real boy who hadn’t been at all bothered that Warlock had very nearly not made it. He schooled his face into something more presentable. “Yeah, yeah, I guess I am.”

“I know that look, lad. There’s a girly involved?”

Warlock takes a deep breath, “A boy, actually. Adam. Adam Young.”

A startled laugh comes from Stacy’s lips but it’s not cruel. “Good on you then, me and my husband always say to each their own, right? If he makes you happy, he makes you happy.” 

And there, in the café, is a small miracle. Because Warlock just came out to a relative stranger and all she did was laugh. And that’s it. No negative reaction like he’d gotten from his parents. No need to hide it away from strangers in case someone finds out and decides to let his parents in on the secret the way it was all the way through his teenage years. Nothing. He hadn’t even really been that scared.

Coming back to England? Best decision he’d ever made.

-///-

Pepper’s painting his fingernails. This has become something of a routine for them in the few short weeks since they met in the garden centre with Warlock falling to pieces over the weed killers. Lollipops are now a tradition too and he’s used to seeing Peppers tongue dazzling shades of muted blue or too-bright red.

A _tradition. _Warlock is almost giddy with that. He has _traditions _now, with people who he can class as his _friends._

He sucks at the last drops of strawberry juice clinging to the stick of his lolly as he admires his jet-black nails with the little white marks that make them look like constellations – constellations that make him think of both Nanny and Adam. Nanny for her love of stars, Adam for the night laying on the grass teaching them to him.

“So. You and Adam.”

Warlock and Adam. They’ve been on exactly four dates since that first time, but they’ve been a little spread out and Warlock wouldn’t rate them as quite as intimate – especially seen as one of them was delivering coffee to Adam who was in the library looking rather dead on his feet. Adam has had an exam coming up – something about moral principles or…something? Warlock may have been focusing more on Adam’s beautiful brown eyes when he was speaking about it…

Anyway. The exam was scheduled for this morning, so after that hopefully Warlock would get to spend more time with that bizarre curly haired boy. They had another date tonight and Warlock really couldn’t wait.

“Me and Adam,” Warlock repeats, blowing on the nails off his left hand and picking up the mug of coffee from the side. They’re in the coffee shop which had come to be where Warlock spent 80% of his time.

“Think that’s going to go somewhere?”

“Yeah, actually. I mean. I’ve never had a—” boyfriend? Is that the right word for what Adam is? Probably too soon “—date-friend,” he winces at his own choice of words, “so who knows? But I hope it will.”

Pepper nods holding out her own hand after selecting an earthy green tone from the lined up nail polish bottles on the side. Warlock begins to unscrew the lid and pointedly does not take a sniff of the fumes, because Pepper judged him for that last time.

“You know, he doesn’t really _date _people,” Pepper gives a shrug, “I mean, he’s the best guy I know, yeah. And people have wanted to but he’s always…worried about influencing them indirectly, I think. Causing them harm.”

Sometimes Pepper speaks like this. Warlock has been trying not to let it alarm him to much. It’s like Adam is…the king or something. A prince. And wouldn’t _that _be a romantic comedy waiting to happen. Unfortunately, according to the media at least, gays can’t _have _romantic comedies, so he’s pretty sure that he’s not going to find out he’s been dating a distant member of the royal family anytime soon.

“Are you saying I shouldn’t pursue it?” Warlock paints her thumb nail as he waits for a response.

“I’m saying…that if you hurt him, in any way, I’ll kick you in the balls.”

Warlock’s never had a friend like Pepper before, and while she doesn’t dress in all black, she is without a doubt one of his favourite people, and perhaps – on the inside, where it counts – slightly more goth than he could ever hope to be.

-///-

So here they are: no one has an exam, no one is getting lost in their gardening, and he’s not delivering coffee to a half-catatonic Adam in a library.

By all rights, it should be a perfect evening.

Warlock has _tried _as well, this time. His appearance is spot on: straightened hair tied back in a loose ponytail, nail polish skilfully applied by Pepper, a black shirt that is unbuttoned _just _enough to _hint _at inappropriacy, skinny jeans that really do a lot to show off his ass.

It is an outfit that his parents would never have approved of. Ever. Which lets Warlock know he made all the right fashion decisions before he left the house.

It should be a perfect evening.

It really, really should.

Except--

Except that when he knocks on the door it does not open to reveal an equally charmingly dressed Adam. Adam’s not even wearing a striped shirt or typical Adam-ish dungarees. No, when Adam opens the door he’s wearing a baggy shirt and track-suit bottoms.

“Warlock? Oh- we…had a date.”

There is no doubt in the tone of voice that Adam _forgot _about said date.

If Adam were the same stock as Warlock’s parents there is no doubt that this would be some subtle mind game, a pay back for how Warlock forgot about the date last time. His parents were good at that. If they weren’t ignoring him entirely, they were playing very subtle mind tricks to try and inspire as many crashing waves of guilt as possible.

But Adam _isn’t _his parents. If he had to place Adam anywhere, he’d be closer to Nanny and Brother Francis. 

_Empathy will always inspire those who you lead, dear Warlock. Be kind, always and it will get you far more than if you merely cut off people’s heads. _Brother Francis had said this with a somewhat pointed look at Nanny, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. Everyone who worked for the Dowlings knew how Brother Francis had a big crush on the Nanny and Warlock had heard the cooks talking about how they took late night strolls in the garden at night after he went to bed.

“Long day?”

“Something like that.” Adam’s fidgeting, as if standing in the doorway is making him anxious. Which is odd because Warlock has never _seen _Adam anxious before. Ever. He’s always charming, confident, like a disney prince if a disney prince had slightly more personality and was slightly more flirty on top.

“Should I…go?”

Adam – for just a moment – looks like he’s going to say yes. Warlock wouldn’t hold it against him. But before he does there’s a change that comes over his expression. Then he pauses. “No. No, don’t. Come in. If..you don’t mind?” He opens the door wider and Warlock walks into the tiny apartment.

Although—funny, it seemed smaller on the outside.

He ignores that nagging feeling that something is odd (sometimes things _are _just odd around Adam, almost like sometimes things were just odd around Nanny and Brother Francis) and heads to the sofa where there’s a blanket and a paused episode of some Netflix show on TV. On the kitchen table Adam’s phone is lit green with an ongoing call. He holds up his finger to Warlock as he goes to get it. “Hey, no, no, Uncle Crow, it’s okay. A…friend arrived. No, not the Them. I’ll ring you back later, okay? Love you, bye.”

Ah, Adam’s mysterious Uncles.

Warlock wants to ask if Adam is okay, but he doesn’t want to force Adam to talk about it. So instead he just glances at the TV screen. “So, what are we watching?”

And just like that some of the tension drains from Adam’s shoulders. “The Good Place.”

“Sweet,” Warlock hasn’t _actually _seen it, but the small smile Adam gives him is worth the tiny lie by omission.

And then comes the logistics of sitting down. 

For a moment, the couch seems to small. Warlock is well aware of Adam, and he’s also well aware that Adam may need comforting. Clearly his exam didn’t go well. But is he allowed to offer an arm, let Adam curl up beside him? Somehow, being outside in the garden at Warlock’s place seemed a lot more…public than Adam’s small living room, even if they were equally alone.

So, they stay like that. They stay like that for a whole episode, with Adam slumped in his corner and Warlock wishing he’d worn more comfortable jeans. Then Adam says-

“Maybe you shouldn’t date me.”

Warlock sucks in a breath and tries to pretend that he’s slightly less affected by the statement than he actually is.

“Are you saying that this isn’t working out?”

Adam – once more – is quiet. It’s so uncharacteristic that it’s almost jarring. Adam is a leader. He oozes charisma. He really _could _lead all the armies of hell if he had to and he probably wouldn’t need empathy _or _fear to do it, just a stern voice or a charming smile. But now he’s soft, quiet, a man who’s only nineteen and who had rung his uncles because he was upset.

“I’m _saying,_” Adam says slowly, “That I’m not entirely sure how _good _I could be for you.”

“Bullshit.” Warlock says quickly and the decision is made for him as he very carefully edges himself into Adam’s personal space, places a hand on his knee. “I think I can decide. And I moved here barely two months ago and the people I’ve met? So much better than anyone I knew in America for _eight years._”

Adam watches Warlock’s hand like it’s a three-legged monster and Warlock almost takes it back, before Adam puts his own fingers on top, intertwines their fingers.

“Is this about the exam?” Warlock edges his bets, because at least Adam is talking now, “Because honestly, you could be a—I don’t know. A dustbin driver who constantly falls in the bins, and I think I’d still be fine. Or a waiter. I’m just a waiter, Adam. I don’t plan on getting a degree anytime soon. You don’t need to have gotten perfect grades for me to like you.”

“You’re not _just _anything.” Adam says, and Warlock feels his heart fill with the conviction in Adam’s tone. “You’re a good man. It’s—not about the exam, actually. The exam went perfectly. The examiner gave me extra time, actually. Because—” Adam shrugs.

“Great!”

“Not great.” Adam snaps, and Warlock feels himself mentally having to back pedal. “People give me all this special treatment and I don’t _want _it. I don’t _ask _for it, Warlock. I don’t ask for _any _of it. But I don’t know how to turn it off either.”

Was this what Pepper was talking about?

Warlock narrows his eyes, “You’re not a prince or something are you?”

That startles a laugh out of Adam, before his eyes darted up to Warlock’s, “A prince?”

“Sometimes Pepper—and you just said people give you special treatment.” Warlock thinks it’s a perfectly fine deduction, thank you very much. He might as well call himself Sherlock Holmes.

“No. No, I’m not part of any earthly royal family.”

“Well then. Quit getting down on yourself. Come here, Adam,” he pulls Adam slightly closer and this time Adam goes and he flops out _entirely. _The tension leaves his body, his head lolls slightly to one side, it’s as if he’s boneless. “Sorry. It’s—My dogs staying at Peppers tonight because she wanted to babysit him for our—shit, for our _date _and then I got out of the exam feeling like crap and there was nobody there and if my Uncle hadn’t rang I probably would have just gone to sleep. I forgot about you coming over. I just--”

“Hey. Watching Netflix is a _much _better date than going out to some fancy restaurant.” Warlock kisses Adam’s forehead and goes to relax, but before he does Adam turns his head. He’s watching Warlock pretty intensely and for a moment Warlock thinks he _might _see some red, lingering just there, in the corner of Adam’s eyes but it's probably just a reflection and why would he care when Adam is leaning in and—

_Oh._

They’ve shared a few chase kisses before, but there’s nothing chase about this one. This one isn’t chase at all. It’s full of all this _feeling. _Warlock hasn’t felt anything like it ever before. He wants to think of metaphors, he _would _think of metaphors, but he can’t, because Adam’s lips against his own are blocking out most of his higher thought processes. All he knows is that he wants to keep doing this and Adam is warm against him, his hands like tiny brands of fire where they’re resting around him.

When they come up for air, Adam sheepishly leans forward and has to restart the episode. They’ve missed the whole thing.

Warlock does not give a single damn about that fact.

“Did we just Netflix and chill?” He asks, still slightly dumbstruck and wiggling his eyebrows, once he’s gotten his voice back.

It’s so worth the pillow that Adam throws at him.

“You’re a bastard. I’m friends with only bastards.” Adam announces.

Warlock laughs and then, high and full of courage off the taste of Adam’s lips, “Hopefully I’m a little bit more than a friend.”

Adam goes still for a moment, but there’s this soft little smile hanging around his lips and Warlock can’t help himself; he leans in to kiss it into something bigger, brighter.

“Yes, yes, alright! You’re more than a friend,” Adam giggles and Warlock’s giggling too, “Now shut up, let’s watch this episode before you find a way to distract me again.”

“I think you’ll find, Mister, that you were the one who kissed me.”

Adam waves his hand like that isn’t really the point and Warlock rolls his eyes.

-///-

They don’t just watch the next episode. They watch the next five (and, alright, they have to re-watch the fourth one because the temptation of getting to kiss one another was too much). Still, Warlock considers it a job well done because by the time Adam reaches over and switches off the TV he’s actually smiling and actually relaxed, which is a far cry from how he looked when Warlock knocked on his door.

“It’s late.”

Warlock’s checks and _shit _Adam is right, it _is _late. Almost midnight. And he’s got a forty-five-minute walk ahead of him. Shit.

“Your house is quite a way away,” Adam says, reading his mind. “Maybe you could stay to sleep here. With me. I mean-” his face burns a glorious red that Warlock can’t appreciate because now _his _face is just as red as Adam’s. “I _mean,_” Adam amends, “I mean that you could stay here. I have some clothes that would probably fit. And we could actually _sleep. _You know, if you don’t mind sharing a bed. Or I could take the couch!”

Adam who is confident and leans over the counter to flirt with him? A wonderful kind of Adam.

Adam who is fumbling over his words after accidentally inviting Warlock to sleep with him? That Adam is infinitely cuter.

“Don’t take the couch, idiot. We can share a bed. We’re adults.”

Adam grins at him and squeezes his hand. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

There are lots of technicalities one doesn’t think about when staying over at someone’s for the first time. Things like: bringing clothes, or how to disrupt ones evening routine without being an absolute nightmare to have in the house. So it takes them a little while to silently negotiate the bathroom, which clothes Adam has for Warlock to wear (Adam, it turns out, doesn’t own a single item of Black in his wardrobe – how Nanny would despair if she knew such a man existed), where to get a glass of water from, even which side of the bed to crawl into.

And even all of that doesn’t come _close _to having Adam suddenly at such close quarters.

Really it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. They had both just been passionately making out just moments ago. But somehow there is a huge difference between making out on the couch and laying in bed with one another. He can hear Adam breathing, if he turns his head, he can feel that breath on the pillow right next to his own. It’s…intimate. Intimate in a way that making out wasn’t.

Warlock would like to say that it didn’t inspire any self-doubt. _Don’t doubt yourself, _Nanny used to say _doubt is unbefitting a boy who will hold the fate of the world in his hands. _But maybe not-doubting was easy when you were talking about the fate of the world, it _wasn’t at all _easy when you were laying in bed next to a stunning boy. They hadn’t even been on that many dates! Could he touch? What if he kicked him in the night while he slept? What if he _snored?_

“I think my Uncles would like you.”

It was a sudden change in topic from the whirlwind in Warlock’s head, but it was also a welcome one because it poses a distraction and reminds him that the person next to him is just Adam; the boy he’s falling for, yes, but someone he’d also consider a good friend.

“Hm?”

“I just text Uncle Crow to let him know I was okay and he would like you. I mean, he likes you already. Not many people can get me to calm down. ‘Cept Dog. Even the Them struggle sometimes. But you managed easy peasy. But what I’m really saying is that you’d get on with them, you know?” Adam reaches over – he’s braver than Warlock and Warlock is so glad that he is – and places his hand on top of Warlock’s.

“What are they like?” Warlock asks, just so he has something to focus on that isn’t the sudden and overwhelming urge to ask if they can spoon. Asking if one could spoon isn’t exactly punk rock.

“Uncle Crow? He’s a bit of a goth, actually. All in black, like you. But he’s got a heart of gold, even if he’d rather you didn’t point it out. And Uncle Zira is the opposite. Mild mannered, all in white, but underneath it all he’s a bit of a bastard. They’re both a bit ridiculous. It all but took them the end of the world to realise that they actually loved one another.” Adam laughs and Warlock wonders what constituted the end of the world. Some family member dying, perhaps? Or some other tragedy they were both stuck it? It feels unsavoury to ask.

Adam moves his hand slightly to stroke over Warlock’s knuckles. “You’re beautiful. Did you know that?”

Warlock is glad it’s so dark so that Adam can’t see him blush and Jesus Christ he shouldn’t be allowed to _say _things like that in front of Warlock while in bed with him, it’s making Warlock’s heart do a load of loop-de-loops.

“You- I mean,” he coughs to clear his throat, “So are you.”

Quiet for a moment more.

“Goodnight, Warlock,” Adam whispers, pulling his hand back, “Thanks for staying.”

“Thank you for letting me. Goodnight, Adam.”

Warlock is pretty sure he’s not going to get much sleep, but it’s entirely worth it, just to get to lie there.

-///-

In the morning, when Warlock wakes up he is _entirely _spooning. He didn’t need to ask, it turned out because Adam’s unconscious body is wrapped around him like a limpet.

Warlock grins into his pillow and thinks again how moving to England was the best idea of his whole fucking life.

-///-

“So,” Adam starts, around a mouthful of pancakes.

As it turns out, neither of them can cook, so their first proper date out for somewhere to eat is a breakfast in a little pancake shop just down from Adam’s apartment.

Warlock’s never quite had pancakes like it. And he had paid cooks living in his house growing up. How could a French crepe shop _this good _open up in this tiny back-end-of-nowhere town? Come to think of it, there’s also a _university. _Adam looks quite happy, chomping down on pancakes and he’s quite happy at the Uni and sometimes Warlock suspects that this place was built with Adam in mind.

That would be ridiculous though.

“So?” Warlock asks, finishing the glorious bite of pancake, cream and strawberries.

“So, if we’re not friends, then what are we?”

Adam poses it in such a confident manner, like they’re talking about the weather or when they’ll next see each other. Meanwhile, Warlock nearly chokes on his pancake.

This is a far cry from the boy last night who stumbled over his words. But Adam woke up in a good mood. Warlock did too. There was a considerable amount of making out in bed earlier on and Warlock was privy to a good coffee and getting to watch Adam walk out of the bathroom and through the kitchen in nothing but a towel.

“Uh…” Warlock swallows.

“Because I think I’d like it if you were my boyfriend.” Adam says and the sip of water Warlock took to clear his throat after Adam asked his first question is almost spat out at that. Warlock is very glad he manages to keep his mouth closed because it would probably be rude to spit at someone you’re about to start calling your boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

Adam gives him a dazzling grin, one that Warlock is pretty sure he could get drunk on. “Wonderful.”

And it really, really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch me throwing in my favourite tropes to make something fluffy for you guys - I needed a chapter where I got them properly in a relationship and what better way to do that than the sharing a bed trope!
> 
> Let me know what you think! Every comment makes my world spin. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

When Adam finally arrives at the house, Wensleydale has managed to cover himself in a thick layer of grey paint and Peppers been doubled over laughing for ten minutes about it, while Warlock rushes about trying to work out what gets such a stain out. Brian – who may or may not have been the one to push over the bucket of grey paint – was staying firmly out of the whole business.

Now that the garden had somehow worked itself out _quite literally_ (Warlock sometimes has gotten to wondering if Adam is some kind of witch) they’ve moved onto the inside of the house. Warlock’s first port of call is getting rid of all the absolutely awful flowery wallpaper that his mother decided to deck most of the house with.

Yet calling in reinforcements has only led to disaster, as evidenced by Wendesley’s nice yellow top with a collar peeking out underneath that’s now completely ruined.

“Adam! Fix it!” Wensleydale shouts to announce Warlock’s boyfriend’s presence, gesturing to his top. Sometimes the way these four act they might as well be ten years old again. They all _certainly _still looked to Adam as their leader, even Pepper. Warlock had decided against commenting on how odd he found that.

Warlock turns to see Adam laughing and shaking his head, “Maybe later, dude,” he grins that cheeky grin of his before snaking his arms around Warlock’s waist and kissing the side of his neck, “I have some more pressing matters to attend to.”

Warlock squirms for fun, but Adam’s grip is surprisingly strong, so he doesn’t get very far. Eventually he relaxes into the treatment of a bunch of kisses pressed to the side of his face.

“Gross.” Brian declares.

Warlock hides his own grin at the one. He’s _gross _now. Gross with someone else. With his _boyfriend. _And maybe that’s not _entirely _punk rock of him, but he’s goth 24/7, he can have a few minutes off to be gross.

“Sorry I’m late,” Adam says, somewhere into Warlock’s skin though he’s talking to the group at large. When Adam talks, everyone listens. “Got a letter from Newton I was just replying to. You’ll never guess what?”

He steps back so he can flourish a piece of paper in front of all their faces.

On it is written in neat script:

_Newton Pulsifer and Anathema Device invite you to their wedding._

Below is the date, time, place and a little box asking if Adam is bringing a plus one.

“She said yes!” Brian grins, punching the air with his fist.

Wensleydale looks like he would have been far more thrilled about this if he wasn’t covered in paint.

Peppers smirking.

“And!” Adam holds up his hand. Evidentially this is not the end of his story, “As they’re non-denominational they’ve asked the powers invested in _me _to officiate.”

“Wicked,” Brian declares.

Wensleydale frowns and this time it’s not just because of the paint, “Do you have the authority to do that? Zira might be the better option seen as he’s literally—”

“Adam has the authority to do anything he wants. If he can change the world to how he likes it, he can totally bind to people in holy- or, uh – unholy? Matrimony?” Brain frowns trying to work it out.

Warlock is too busy staring at the little plus one box to realise that this conversation isn’t exactly what one would class as a _normal _one.

Obviously, everyone else will be invited. Adam seems to have a plethora of friends that aren’t his age, and Warlock isn’t quite sure whether or not they’re related to anyone or whether Adam is just Like That. Sometimes he does seem somewhat timeless. He converses well with almost everyone, seems to fit into almost every group like water taking up the spaces that will keep him. It would be freaky if it wasn’t so endearing.

And after all of that Adam choose _him, _Warlock thought, a little smuggly.

He’s Adam’s boyfriend. He’s probably going to end up being the tick in that little plus one box. And that is—something of a miracle in its own way considering where he was barely a year ago. Sometimes he still wakes up thinking he’s in America and then he looks around and he’s in his _home _instead.

“Can we _please _sort out my clothes now?” Wensleydale is good at whining. Warlock doesn’t hold it against him. He likes the guy – even if his only real goal in life is to correct spellings and be an accountant.

So, the little group breaks up in order to sort Wensleydale’s clothes. Warlock’s halfway through digging out something he thinks will at least sort-of fit him when he comes downstairs to find that Wensleydale happened to have a spare change of clothes. He notices the way Adam elbows him when Warlock points out that they look just the same, but for the life of him can’t work out why.

-///-

“Getting close to the big day, eh, Newton? She’s still not left you yet?”

Personally, Warlock thinks that teasing poor Newt while he’s fumbling for change _again _is pretty poor form, but he knows that Stacy means well.

“Well—yeah, yeah, I mean. Yes. Soon. Barely two months now.” Newt smiles and even though its shaky, it's sure, “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Barely two months until the wedding. Which means it’s been over a month since Adam got the invitation. In that time they’ve managed to paint most of the front rooms and Warlock is quite proud to say that there was only _one_ paint fight that involved everyone being covered with shades of grey and pink.

(Pink is a punk rock colour, and besides, he said that they could all choose a colour to paint a room and Brian went and picked baby pastel pink – Warlock was hardly going to say no, was he?)

It’s been a month since Adam’s invitation arrived, and their relationship has been going great. Adam’s spending most weekend nights at his and Warlock’s been spending most weekday nights at his. It’s perfect. Perfect _except _for the fact that Adam hasn’t asked him to be the plus one yet.

Which is fine. He’s not twelve. He doesn’t need his boyfriend to invite him to the party.

Still. It would be _nice. _If he’d _bothered _to ask.

Nanny and Brother Francis have no helpful advice or reprimands popping up in his head. But then, they didn’t bother to ask him to come to anything they went off to do either – they just left him alone.

Warlock forces himself out of that chain of thought. Adam is not a re-run of abandonment issues played on him by the myriad of parental figures in his life. Two months til the wedding and two months is a long time and they’ve been busy.

It’s all fine.

-///-

“So anyway, I told my professor that was entirely bullshit, I mean, he was implying that pronouns for God weren’t an issue in any culture and I said if they weren’t an issue why don’t we just refer to God as _she _then, and he said that would change the metaphor so like, clearly they’re an issue and should be looked at in religious institutions and—Warlock? Warlock are you listening?”

Pepper snaps her fingers in front of his face to get his attention.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Warlock tries for a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just thinking.”

“Thinking about what? You’re not still on about this wedding thing, are you? Because I said I’d—”

“Jesus Christ, no, keep your voice down,” Warlock hisses.

They’re waiting outside Adam’s lecture hall. Pepper finished up her lecture a while ago and usually Warlock really does love hearing about them. But he’s found himself in a bit of a weird place this week. It’s _not _about Adam, he swears. It’s just…he feels something. Something in the air. Something that’s _not right._

Pepper raises an eyebrow, propping herself up on one of the tables that looks a little _too _fancy for her to lounge all over – not that she’d ever let that stop her. “Oh, so convincing. Try it again without the overwhelming fear of Adam overhearing.”

“Look, it’s just…” Warlock sighs, “I don’t know. I have a _feeling_.”

He waits for Nanny’s voice in his head to tell him to trust his gut and enact his will or something, but she’s silent. She’s been silent for a while now. So’s Brother Francis. Whenever he tries to recall their advice that seems recorded into his head like a record player, his mind goes oddly silent. He reckons its something to do with how their leaving is hitting him. Sometimes it does sometimes. He’s used to it. He’ll be mad or sad for a few days – or weeks – on end but then he’ll get over it.

He should probably get counselling for that. But who is going to take seriously the kid who’s more upset by his Nanny and his Gardener leaving than his parents disowning him?

“Hmm,” Pepper squints at him, “Adam gets those.”

“Feelings? I should high hope so Pep, I’m sort of romantically involved with him.”

Pepper swats him round the back of the head lightly, “No, dummy, he gets feelings when good or bad things are going to happen. You should cross reference it.”

“Cross reference our…feelings?” Warlock raises a brow as if to indicate that she’s being a bit ridiculous. It earns him another swat.

“I’m just saying that Adam is—”

But she’s interrupted by the actual Adam.

“What we chatting about lads?” Adam slings an arm around Warlock’s shoulder. “Morning, darling.” A kiss to Warlock’s cheek.

Not the kind of person who looks like he’s having bad feelings, really.

“Interesting lecture?” Pepper asks.

“If you can count Augustine interesting. I mean, you _know _how Uncle Az goes on about how boring he was. I was going to ring them and double check some points actually. But yeah, I mean, pretty sure his stuff on sex is just—”

And he listens to Adam talk about his lecture, and he tries to ignore the bad feeling in his chest. Peppers right. It’s probably just the invite thing.

Probably.

-///-

The sounds from behind the couch are the sounds that usually breed contentment inside Warlock. Adam is chattering about them ordering take out later and the kettle is boiling. Outside the window he can hear the passing of cars, but they’re far away from their little haven. Occasionally Adam takes a break and there’s the tapping of keys on the keyboard as he thinks of something else to add to the essay he has due in a few weeks. 

Usually it would make Warlock feel relaxed, but he doesn’t feel as good as he would usually. Still, he’s trying to hold off those feelings, tell himself they’re mostly meaningless. 

Still it takes him a while to realise Adam’s stopped chatting away and there’s no tapping of keys. He’s about to turn round and check on him when very suddenly, something tackles him from behind. 

“What? Hey! Ah!” 

Adam’s got him though. He half jumped over the couch to get him, but he’s got him. He’s laughing, grinning down at him devilishly, pinning Warlock’s hands above his head before Warlock can have much say in the matter. 

“Hello, you,” Adam says confidently. Leaning forward to nip at Warlock’s neck lightly, “You weren’t paying attention to me.” 

Warlock shifts, holding back his own laughter. Adam always knows how to cheer him up. “Well, you’ve certainly made that task impossible now.”

Adam’s giggles against his skin are like little soothing fireworks. He leans back again to survey his ‘conquest’ properly. “You alright?”

It’s a serious question. Warlock considers bringing up the wedding invite but dismisses it. Despite Peppers insistence that really isn’t everything that’s wrong. Maybe he should bring up Nanny and Brother Francis but the idea of talking about them right now makes him feel a little sick. “I’m okay.”

“You can talk to me,” Adam whispers. 

Warlock knows that. He’s just not the best at communication. 

“I know,” he gives a smile, “Really though, Adam. I’m just a little bit out of it at the moment. But I’ll be fine.” He shifts under Adam’s thighs that have him pinned down, “At least, I _would _be if someone would get off me.”

Adam smirked, “Make me.”

Warlock wrestled Adam off the couch and onto the floor. 

They didn’t leave the floor for quite some time.

-///-

It all comes to a head one day at _work _of all places.

He’s been good at ignoring that feeling of utter dread that’s been circling him. Really good, he thinks. It helps that one sure fire cure to stopping Warlock’s worries is when Adam kisses him, and they’ve been doing a _lot _of that recently.

Adam’s asked him a few times if he’s okay and he’s said yes every time, but be it because Pepper is meddling or because Adam has just keyed in to his tells, Adam seems aware that his presence is needed more.

So, this morning, he’d come into work and there had been _flowers. _Beautiful, amazing, vibrant flowers which really weren’t goth at _all _but it was Adam, so Warlock forgave him. They’d been sat on the counter with a note and Warlock’s heart had soared and Stacy had laughed at him and called him ‘cute’ and it should have been a perfect start to a nice day.

And then it happened.

Apparently, his gut had been spot on.

-///-

“Come give me sugar, I’ve come to buy sugar,” Adam leans over the counter and Warlock takes a leaf out of Peppers book and swats him over the head with a newspaper.

He does give in and give him a kiss a moment later though.

“You’re ridiculous,” Warlock reprimands.

“Ridiculously glad I’m with you.”

“Oh my god,” Warlock will never admit that he is blushing at all this stupid talk Adam insists on.. “If you keep that up, I’m not saying thank you for the flowers.”

Adam’s grin is cheeky as ever. “Come to my place tonight,” he murmurs, his fingers stroking over the back of Warlock’s hand where it’s resting on the counter. “I have something I want to show you.”

Knowing Adam that could be anything at all, from a cool rock to a good TV show to something rather amazing he could do with his tongue.

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Warlock leans over the counter to give him another kiss. “Coffee?”

“Nah, just came in to see you and-“ he at least has the decency to look a little sheepish, “Use the bathroom?”

Warlock rolls his eyes but even Stacy wouldn’t stop him doing that even if he’s not buying anything. Everyone loves Adam. It's some kind of universal rule. Like gravity. 

Warlock is too busy watching Adam go – watching his ass actually, but who’s going to judge him for watching his boyfriend’s ass? – that he doesn’t actually see who walks through the door.

He doesn’t see them as they look around distastefully.

He doesn’t see them as they approach the counter.

He does hear them ring the bell though.

“How can I—” the words ‘help you’ die on his lips.

Because there, in her typically expensive-looking clothing, is his mother.

His _mother._

For just a moment, he’s positive that he’s dreaming. He’s dreaming and he’ll wake up any moment. Because this world that he’s built up in England doesn’t include his parents – he has no space for them here. They don’t fit into the boyfriend, the paint fights, the mysterious dog, getting up at ass o’clock to walk to work. They don’t fit into his ice creams with Pepper, they don’t fit into helping to quiz Wensleydale when he’s testing himself for an exam, they don’t fit into watching Brian and Adam bicker and then hug it out.

They just don’t _fit._

So, he must be dreaming.

Right?

Right?

Only she’s there and she doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. She’s there staring at him with something that he can recognise. She’s looking at him with _pity _for fucks sake.

“Warlock-“ she begins.

He opens his mouth to ask her what the fuck she’s doing here, how she even found out about his job, if she’s – god forbid – been at the house. But he finds he’s oddly empty. Empty of words. Empty of reality. Empty. Because this isn’t happening. It can’t be.

“Warlock, I’ve come to take you home.”

And he’s eleven again and Nanny is gone and his mother is talking about going ‘home’ when he’s only ever been to America on holiday.

“This has gone on long enough. I know you’re throwing a tantrum, but really, you have a choice in the matter and it’s a simple one to make.”

And he’s fifteen and she’s talking to him and he’s realising she doesn’t know him. That she never bothered to try when he was a child because Nanny was there and now, she _doesn’t know him._

“You don’t have to continue with all this nonsense about _boys. _Come to America, go to Harvard. Working in a coffee shop is so beneath you, my son, and honestly, your father is so livid that you choose all this ridiculous talk about relationships that you’re not even in yet over him. He’s positively distraught. Surely you feel guilt over that?”

And he’s seventeen and he realises he’s realising that he’s been a pawn in their marriage all along. Something to pass back and forward, something to use as leverage. Did they even want a kid in the first place, or was it just the done thing?

“Warlock. I’m your mother. Speak to me. Tell me you’ll leave this awful place.”

Warlock can’t speak. He’s all out of words.

“Warlock, are you alright?” It’s Stacy. But he can’t hear her properly. Is he drowning? Is—what’s happening? He doesn’t know. He can’t _breathe._

“Oh, really now,” his mother is saying, somewhere far away, “don’t make such a _fuss._”

_Such a fuss_…. He knew those three words. She said them before. She said them whenever this happened. ‘Such a fuss’ codewords for Warlock having a panic attack.

He’s having a panic attack.

Oh _fuck._

Stacy is there, behind him all of a sudden, rubbing his back. His mother is shouting at her, he realises belatedly.

_(“Get off my son. He needs to learn to grow out of this.”)_

He’s shaking. He’s shaking and he can’t breathe and he’s sucking in breaths and—

And a chill goes over the whole room.

At first, he thinks that this is just him. That he’s got a chill, that it’s only on _his _end that the lights have seemingly suddenly gone low, that it’s all on him.

But suddenly nobody's speaking.

His mother has stopped. Stacy has stopped.

Warlock takes a few more deep breaths, tries to focus. And here is what he sees:

A few steps out of the bathroom door is Adam. He’s stood there in all his glory, except it’s not the kind of glory which Warlock would usually paint him in. It’s not a cheeky grin and dungarees. There’s nothing light and happy about this, nothing warm that fills Warlock to the brim with affection. This...This is something terrible. Warlock’s panicked mind can barely take it all in. 

Adam’s eyes are almost entirely red. His hair seems almost static. His mouth is compressed into a thin line that isn’t so much a frown as disapproval on all he sees. He looks _powerful _and _deadly _and full of ice.

“**Get the fuck away from him**.”

Adam’s voice fills the room, and not in a nice happy way like Warlock is used to. Warlock isn’t listening because he can’t help but listen to everything Adam says, he’s listening because _he can’t help but listen to everything Adam says. _There is no choice here. His tone brooks no room for an argument. If he told the sun to stop shining it would. If he told the sky to be red it would. If he told water to boil itself it would.

Warlock’s mother takes two steps backwards. “Who- what-“

“**You heard me. Get the fuck away. Leave your number. _Now_**_._”

There is a frantic scribble of a pen as some digits are written down and left on the counter.

“**This is what is going to happen. You’ll go to the hotel room up the road**. **You will check in to room 205. You will wait _inside the hotel only _for the next four days. If you don’t hear from your son in that time you will get on a flight to America and you will _never _come back here again. Do I make myself clear?**”

And she’s gone. She listened. Because there was no way to deny that voice. That _voice. _

Everything is quiet. Adam is stood there still. He looks terrible. Terrifying. There is hardly any trace of the boy who Warlock is falling for. There is only this Master, this Controller, this, this—

“Adam!”

The lights flicker back on. Stacy moves into the back room as if nothing at all happened.

Pepper is in the doorway, looking slightly aghast. “Adam what did you—” She trails off, her eyes flickering around the empty coffee shop before settling back on Adam again, taking steps towards him.

How can she think about moving towards him? How is she not scared out of her mind.

He still looks terrible. Like he could bring the world to its knees. But the closer Pepper gets the more his body sags. Warlock watches it happen – how can he do anything but watch? – watches as Adam becomes less and less like the boy with fire in his eyes and more like the brown eyed, curly haired boy he knows. Peppers hand is on his shoulder and he looks at her and—

And—

And Warlock doesn’t think he can quite cope with any of this.

He pulls off his apron, leaving it on the counter.

And he does the thing all his instincts are screaming at him to do.

He runs.

-///-

Once, a long time ago, when Warlock was only eight years old, his mother had decided that she was jealous of the Nanny.

It seemed to happen all at once. One moment his life was normal, the next moment his mother was tugging him in for too many hugs. She’d squeeze so tightly that it almost hurt no matter how many times he asked her to get off him. She’d refuse to let Nanny read him his bedtime story or sing him his lullaby. She’d bring him to all her fancy dinners and dress him up in clothes that itched. On Mother’s Day his father got him a card to give to her that said _to the best mummy ever. _She held it aloft in front of all her friends and told them about her special bond with her son.

Warlock had heard her threaten to fire Nanny a dozen times in those few weeks. When Nanny tried to take him out for his walk around the garden, when Nanny tried to read him a book, when Nanny tried to kiss his forehead like she always did, when Nanny let him sit on her lap when she told him stories of years gone by.

Warlock kept a stiff upper lip and held Nanny’s hand so tight when they were alone that it must have hurt her fingers.

And then it had all stopped. All at once. It was as if his mother forgot all about the incident.

When he asked Nanny about it, she told him that it was quite a miracle that she hadn’t been fired and left it at that.

For a week she heaped treats on him though, gave him up to five stories before he went to sleep.

That confusion, that utter confusion of everything going topsy-turvy though, had remained a prominent feature in his memories.

It’s all he can think about on the way home. He doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because his mother just arrived to take him away from someone he loved. Or maybe it’s the sudden change—his mother had been fine before and then suddenly she’d been suffocating. But—

No. His mother wasn’t a metaphor for Adam. Adam wasn’t like that. But--

But Warlock wasn’t sure _what _was a metaphor for Adam.

Had he imagined it all? Some anxiety induced dream? Had he made up the way Adam’s eyes had turned red? Had he made up the tone in Adam’s voice?

He couldn’t say. He wishes desperately that he could say. He wishes that he could say with certainty he’d imagined the whole thing.

_People give me all this special treatment and I don’t want it. I don’t ask for it, Warlock. I don’t ask for any of it. But I don’t know how to turn it off either…_

Was that what he meant? That he could _command _special treatment? Not because he was a prince but because he could make his voice do _that. _Make his smile drop. Make his eyes _red._

Warlock got home and went upstairs. He locked all the doors. He drew all the blinds. He ignored the painted rooms and found some old one, brought his laptop in and booted up Twilight on Netflix.

When Bella told Edward she knew what he was, he laughed. He laughed and laughed. He had no idea what _Adam _was.

He laughed until he cried and then cried until he fell asleep.

-///-

His phone rang over twenty times before it ran itself out of charge.

Someone knocked on his door once every few hours.

He didn’t know if it was his mother. If it was Adam. If it was Pepper. He didn’t know how to respond to any of those options.

So he didn’t. He kept himself to himself.

A week ago his only real problem had been that Adam hadn’t invited him to the stupid wedding.

Now his mother was here and Adam was—whatever Adam was and his life was a mess all over again.

-///-

There was a barking at the door.

Warlock groaned. That damn dog.

But he had been hauled up inside for the past forty-eight hours. He’d missed work even (fuck, he really couldn’t deal with being fired). He had to at least try and be semi human.

So he opened the door for the dog.

The dog was soaking wet from the rain, but it barked at him regardless. Happy to see him.

Warlock fell to his knees in front of the sopping wet thing and hugged it, buried his face into the sopping wet fur. He didn’t even care that it was licking his face. He didn’t care that it was a dog and he wasn’t really a dog person. He didn’t care that it was getting his clothes all wet. He just held on for dear life and hoped beyond hope that everything would be okay.

-///-

“Come on then,” Warlock sighed, tugging on his coat. It’s raining but the dog kept barking. It’s not even _his _dog, he doesn’t know why he has to head on out in the rain with it but—well. It’ll get him out of the house. And he hasn’t been out of the house in seventy-two hours and counting.

He tried just opening the door and letting it go, but it seemed that the dog wanted to have someone join him in the wet misery. That was fine. Warlock was miserable anyway.

The dog barks. Happy. Warlock scowls at him as he begins to walk the daft thing around the garden.

“We can just stay here, can’t we?” He glances down at the dog, “You’ll be my best friend, won’t you?”

He could have sworn the dog was giving him a _look._

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He muttered. “Wait-- Hey! Come back!”

The dog has just run off down the road. After he brought Warlock all the way out here.

Warlock curses, kicks a pile of dirt.

“Whoa, something’s got you moody.”

For a moment, he almost, almost thinks its brother Francis. He’s ten years old again and angry at Nanny and his parents and he’s come out into the garden to find solace with the gardener. For a moment, he’s ready to run into the other man’s arms and rest his head on his shoulder and sob. Because brother Francis never judged him for crying, not ever, he just looked after him.

But its not brother Francis.

It’s not anyone he recognises actually.

For a horrible moment he has images in his head. What if it's an agent from his mother? Or from Adam? Or—

But when he gets a _good _look, he realises that he does know her, in an indirect sort of way.

It’s Anathema Device. Newt’s soon-to-be-wife. She comes into the coffee shop oh so rarely but there’s no doubt that it’s her he’s looking at. She has such a distinctive style. He remembers how much he envied her that, admired her that, even if they’d rarely spoken, every time she came in with her fiance.

“What are you doing out in the rain? Come, let’s get you inside.” She fusses as if it’s perfectly normal for her to be all the way out here by the house, as if they’d known each other all their lives.

He’s had a long week. He’s too tired to disagree. The house is the only thing around here and it’s not particularly polite to leave her out here in the rain anyway.

It’s not until they’ve gotten inside that he realises that she probably _is _an agent of Adam. Still, she’s in the kitchen now, making tea for them both. He can’t kick her out. And the majority of him is just...too tired to care.

“So…Adam sent you?” No need to beat around the bush.

“No,” Anathema says simply, handing him his own mug. All of a sudden, she seems to have made the space both _welcoming _and _hers. _He’s not in charge anymore.

Honestly, it’s something of a relief not to be. To just...let her take over for a while.

“No, nobody sent me. Adam has stopped by in the past few days and Newt has mentioned you haven’t been at work. Even Pepper has been fretting and its rare to see her fret. But nobody asked me to come. I came all by myself.” She sets her tea down.

In one way, she almost reminds him of Nanny. She’s all in black, a very no-nonsense attitude. She doesn’t seem the type to lie either, and a lack of lies is just what he needs right now. Because Adam...maybe Adam’s been lying to him for a long time. Maybe since they met. 

Who is the _real _Adam? That thing in the coffee shop or the man who tackled him on the couch to make him smile? Could they _both _be Adam or was that too much of a contradiction?

“I don’t know what to say,” he muttered.

“Well, you better think of something quick. These things need fixing and it’s best to let them be fixed.” She hands him a cup of tea and takes a sip of her own,O”therwise you’re just holding off the inevitable, and in my family that’s not something we do. Now. Where to start,” she taps her finger on the table. “Your mother? Or your boyfriend?”

She is a stranger, yes. He probably shouldn’t have even invited her into the house. But he’s actually rather…soothed by her presence. He needed _someone _to talk about this with, and he knew it was never going to be Pepper or Adam or Wensleydale or Brian. And who else does he have? Since coming here he hasn’t felt _alone. _Not properly alone. But now loneliness – like it had when they moved to America – has crept up on him all over again.

He needs someone. It might as well be her.

“I don’t want to talk about Adam.”

“Let’s start with your mother, then.”

Warlock spreads his hands, “I-- she wants me to come home. After she kicked me out for being gay and bribed me with a _house _so I wouldn’t go to the press and ruin my Dad’s career with it. I don’t know how to deal with that.”

He expects plenty of things. He expects her to do what everyone does: _she’s your mother. She loves you. You need to give her a chance. Your family. _What he doesn’t expect is—

“Now, I can’t tell you what to do with that one. But family is a privilege. She has to earn it. And you owe her nothing, Warlock. Not even a phone call if you don’t wish it. Adam – yes, yes, I know we’re not talking about him yet – but Adam has his ways. She truly won’t contact you first now. And if you’d like, you could be free of her.” She places a soothing hand on his forearm. “She doesn’t deserve a lovely boy like you, regardless of blood relation.”

Warlock opened his mouth. Closed it again. Opened. “I—” he took a deep breath, “She tried her best, I think. Whatever her best was.”

Anathema nodded, “I’m not saying she didn’t. but it wasn’t the best for you.”

Warlock swallows. Nobody has ever _said _it so plainly before. It’s a bit of a shock. It’s a lot of a relief. 

“Maybe one day I could—but she’s not here to apologise for any of it. For taking me from England in the first place, for never getting to know me, for kicking me out because I’m gay. She just wanted me to stop…messing around. That’s what she sees all this as. Messing around.”

Anathema raised a brow, taking another sip of her tea, “And is it?”

“No.” Warlock was sure about that, even if he wasn’t sure about anything else in his life right now. “I—I miss her sometimes. But I think I more miss the person she could have been instead of the person she is. She just makes me panic. Anxious. I—yeah. I don’t want her in my life right now.”

Anathema smiled. “Perfectly fine, dear Warlock. That’s one problem out of the way.”

Just like that. One problem out of the way. 

Damn, she _is _good. Newt is a lucky guy. 

But one problem out of the way...well...

They sit in silence for a while. He knows what the _other _problem is. He knows _who _the other problem is. But Adam is wholly more complicated than his mother.

“What _is _he?” Warlock finally asked. He couldn’t help it. It slipped out. It’s what’s been running through his mind for the past few days. What _is _Adam?

Anathema laughed but it wasn’t a harsh sound, “He’s just human. Mostly. Look, my dear, Adam hasn’t been _lying _to you.”

“He did—”

“Oh yes, I won’t lie to you about that. He certainly _did _things. He can do things. But just because he’s got more of a natural ability at it doesn’t mean he’s unique. Take me, for example. Did you know I come from a very long line of witches?” 

Warlock blinks. Witches? And she said it so matter of fact…

Not that he doesn’t _necessarily _believe there’s more to the world than what meets the eye. In fact he definitely does believe there is. But it’s one thing to believe it and another thing to be suddenly thrust into it.

“You’re a witch…?”

“Oh yes. Witch and professional decedent. Or I _was _a professional decedent. One of my ancestors wrote a prophecy book some time ago. The prophecies only went up to 2019, I’m afraid, but they were quite accurate. I was in charge of—well. I suppose seeing them through.”

Warlock mulls this over. It’s not _too _hard to believe, exactly. Just...hits him out of nowhere.

“And Adam is a witch too?”

“A bit more powerful, and a bit more of a natural ability, but he plays with the same forces. He’s just more attuned to tapping into them.”

“I still—”

“Don’t know,” Anathema finishes for him, nodding, “It’s not an easy decision you have to make, Warlock. I’m sorry. I’m not saying you _should _be with him, if he frightened you. But I will say he didn’t mean to. He’s been distraught thinking he did.”

He tried to think of Adam – _his _Adam, being distraught over something that _he _did and it fills him with unfathomable sadness. It _still _fills him with that unfathomable sadness even now, even after everything.

And Adam _did _scare him, he couldn’t deny that. But maybe…

Maybe he owed it to the boy he was falling for – that he was _falling in love with _lets be honest here – to tell him his side. He just needed that little bit of a push.

“I want to trust him.” Warlock murmured.

He did. He wanted to trust him.

“Trust takes a lot of work. A lot of time.” Anathema murmured. “Me and Newt were-- well, that ancestor of mine wrote a lot about us. We were practically fated. But it still took us nine years to get to a point where we were willing to completely dedicate our lives to each other.”

Yeah. He should communicate. Communication—well. His parents certainly hadn’t taught him how to communicate. Even Nanny hadn’t really been any good at communicating.

But if he wanted this to work out with Adam he probably should try. He had to try. If this was the life that he wanted.

He had to try.

Even if-- even if it didn’t go well, he needed the closure.

Warlock took a deep breath. “Okay.”

Okay.

-///-

After Anathema had stayed for a while, had a few cups of tea, after they’d talked about decorating and Warlock’s love of horror films. After all of that…he text Adam.

Within half an hour there was a knock on his door.

It took him awhile to get there, to open up, but whatever he was expecting when he opened it, it wasn’t…this.

He had flashbacks to the first time he’d stayed over at Adam’s place, but this was far, far worse. Adam looked _awful. _His hair looked wet and miserable, his clothes damp and stained – the bottoms of his jeans with muck and grim, his shirt with something that might have been gravy. The bags under his eyes were so heavy they looked almost comical; his lips pressed into a thin frown. But worse than all of that was how small he looked. Curled in on himself. Guilty. His eyes darting quick fire from Warlock’s face to the floor. He looked almost _scared_.

It was a far cry from the—the _being _that had commanded his mother out of the coffee shop.

Yet that had been Adam. It _was _Adam. He couldn’t just forget that, couldn’t just let it go. As much as he wanted to bundle Adam up in blankets, be the supportive boyfriend he had been once before…he couldn’t be. He was hurting just as much as Adam.

They had to talk.

“Come in, I guess,” Warlock opened the door wider as Adam sheepishly stepped through the doorway and into the kitchen. In difference to his common practice, he kept his head down, eyes trailing the floor. Funny, how these actions made him almost shrink into the woodwork.

“You had someone over?” The first words Adam had said, and even his _voice _sounded strained.

Warlock refused to give in to pity. Crossing his arms over his chest he gave a stiff nod, “Yes.” He didn’t owe Adam too much of an explanation. At least not until Adam gave _him _an explanation. Two empty teacups had nothing on red eyes and weird imperio shit from Harry Potter.

Staring at his fingers, Adam nodded.

Warlock didn’t put on the kettle. The noise would be too loud for the room, and he didn’t know how long Adam would be staying for anyway. Sitting wasn’t an option either. Sitting down would put him at Adam’s level, and there was something comforting about being slightly taller.

“Warlock,” Adam’s head shot up suddenly, as if noticing Warlock for the first time. The intensity of his stare pierced Warlock’s chest, but he kept a stiff upper lip. Adam’s eyes were that warm brown when he whispered, “Warlock, I’m _sorry_.”

Warlock wanted to come forward, fall to his knees, accept the apology outright. But that wouldn’t be fair on either of them. They needed to talk this out. “What for?”

“I—I scared you, obviously,” Adam had dropped his head again, shame curling in the slight quiver of his voice, “I scared you. I used my _voice. _I can’t help it. When I get angry sometimes it just comes out. And I saw you starting to have a panic attack and I heard her, and I put two and two together and I just—” He seemingly lost his words, falling silent again.

Outside, the sound of distant thunder rolling, the patter of rain on the windows.

“You just _what _Adam?” Warlock could feel the outburst building in him, “Because you—what you did—you didn’t even _look _like you. And I’m trying to keep an open mind, I am. I was practically raised to believe this stuff, Nanny was just _like _that and _she _had weird eyes, but your eyes are brown, Adam. And they weren’t. And nobodies voice should be able to do that.” Warlock felt breathless by the time he’d gotten to the end of his speech. He shifted his weight from one foot to another.

Adam glanced up at him once more, and this time he kept his gaze there. “I was born—look. I was born a little…different. I can do certain things. I don’t really know how. My parents are more…adoptive parents, so to say. They don’t know that. It’s really—it’s complicated. But none of it really matters. What matters is that things seem to _bend _around me. They do what I want them to. When I grew up the weather was perfect always. It snowed at Christmas, we had bright sunny summers. I lived in an idyllic village and – low and behold – the town over from that village just happened to have a university I could go to. Everything _works out _even when I don’t mean for it to. And I hate it, I hate myself, I wish I could get rid of it. But when I had the chance…I was eleven. I didn’t take it. I clung to my powers just in case I needed them. And now I’m…like this.” He raised his head. “Please, Warlock. Please understand that I never would want to hurt you. Or use it against you. I just lost control. I was trying to _protect _you.”

Warlock…didn’t know what to say to that. He supposed it made sense. Like when the garden magically sprung back to life after he’d heard Adam telling off the plants.

Warlock shifted, pushed himself off the wall and then finally came to sit down in the chair opposite Adam.

For a long while, silence.

“Can you-- I understand if you can’t ever trust me. If you feel scared around me. If you do I’ll leave.” Adam took a deep breath. “I promise.”

And he meant it. Warlock believed him. 

Was he scared though? Could he trust Adam? Adam had explained and it sort of made sense. But...was he scared?

No, Warlock realised suddenly. He wasn’t. He wasn’t scared Adam was going to hurt him. He was just...mad. But anger would pass. 

Did he want to lose Adam?

No. The clear answer was absolutely not. 

He took a deep breath, “Adam look at me,” he waited until he had Adam’s gaze, “Adam Young, I am in love with you.”

It wasn’t _quite _how he’d thought he’d say it for the first time. All stern, neither of them daring to reach out and touch one another, tears in both their eyes. But he needed to say it, here and now. Adam needed to know.

“I am in love with you, Adam. But people—people I care about have screwed me over a lot. Or they’ve used the power they have over me against me. Like my Mum and Dad. Or they left like Nanny. I can’t _do _that again, Adam.”

“You won’t have to,” Desperation now, a hand reaching out before Adam seemed to think better and placed it back on the table. “Warlock I—I _love _you too. I love you. You’re funny and smart and you wear ridiculous black clothing and you’re so _kind _to everyone and you’ve fitted right into my friend group – like you’ve always been there. We haven’t had any new members since we were six and Brian moved to the village. But you? You just…you fit. I’m in love with your laugh and your smile. I’m in love with how you help out without being asked. I’m in love with how you make your coffees. I’m-- I love you. I _won’t hurt you._”

More silence.

Carefully, slowly, Warlock reached out and took Adam’s hand.

“So we love each other.”

“Yeah.”

“Which means that even if this is hard, we’re going to work it out.”

Something like hope flickered across Adam’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

They were going to figure it out.

-///-

How long did they sit like that, holding one another’s hand? Warlock didn’t know. It could have been hours or minutes or days. He just knew that by the time he stood up he was stiff from holding one position for so long.

“Come on,” He muttered, “It’s late. We’re going to bed.”

The climb up the stairs they took hand in hand. Warlock turned on the bedside light and began to get undressed. He’d done this a dozen times with Adam right there but somehow, he now felt the need to turn his back.

But after he’d gotten his shirt off, he found hands on his hips from behind.

“You’re not tensing,” Adam murmured. Huh. Warlock had almost expected himself to as well.

Adam’s chin fit into the groove of his shoulder. “Your mother?”

Warlock sighed. “I—I’m not going to ring her. I’m going to let her go back. She doesn’t want me anyway. One day, maybe, when she’s ready to apologise. But not now.”

Adam nodded, took one of Warlock’s hands and squeezed.

“You need to promise me something, Adam.”

“Anything.”

Warlock hoped it wouldn’t hurt him to ask, but Warlock had to. “I need you to promise you’ll never use your…gift…against me. On me. Like you did to my mum. I mean—I don’t mind little stuff. You making the garden bloom for example. That’s just who you are. But you can’t use that voice on me.”

Adam sucked in a breath, then pressed a gentle closed mouthed kiss against Warlock’s jaw, “Never. I promise. It happens so rarely these days anyway.”

Warlock nodded, shifted in Adam’s grip so he was facing him. They were both a little bit of a wreck, he thought, as he reached his hand out to cup Adam’s cheek, bringing their lips together for something closed mouthed and tender. A few hours ago he hadn’t been certain he’d let Adam back into his life. Now he had him. And it _was _a relief, to know that he had Adam.

That Adam _loved _him.

“Warlock,” Adam whispered, and oh, he could _hear _the slight smile in his voice. Adam coming back to normal.

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” Adam pressed a kiss to his cheek. “God, we love each other. How amazing is that?”

Warlock had to agree, it was pretty amazing.

“Come on.”

They settled underneath the covers, Adam’s fingers tangling in Warlock’s hair. “Can I try something, just a little something?” He asked softly.

Warlock nodded, “Yeah.”

Adam leaned forward, kissed Warlock’s forehead, “You’ll awake after having a lovely dream about whatever you like best.”

Warlock was asleep in minutes, dreaming about the house with Nanny and Gardener in it and the Them and even that daft dog and Adam by his side, always.

-///-

“So,” Warlock murmured sometime in the morning, head resting on Adam’s chest. “We did a good communication thing, huh?”

Adam nodded, “Hm, I’d say so. Why?”

“Because…there’s something else. Which last week seemed a big deal. And Pepper just kept telling me to ask you about it.”

Adam’s hand continued it’s travels through Warlock’s hair, down Warlock’s back, “What’s wrong?”

“Well…this wedding. You just—I was just—”

“What? You can’t find a tux? I’m not sure Newt and Anathema would mind much. They’re quite alright people.”

Warlock frowned, lifted his head, “Adam, I’m not invited.”

“What? Of course you are. You’re my plus one. I thought that was a given.”

Warlock threw up a hand, “How the hell was I supposed to know? You didn’t _ask._”

Adam chuckled suddenly, “Okay. Yeah. We definitely needed to learn how to communicate better. But Warlock?”

“Yeah?”

“Seen as you’re incredibly beautiful, and I’m incredibly lucky to have you, and I’m completely and utterly in love with you, would you perhaps be so kind as to accompany me to the wedding?”

Half an hour, five hickies and a few moans later, and Warlock finally said yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a little bit more angsty but we couldn't leave Warlock's parents as a loose string and Warlock needed to realise Adam was a bit supernatural at some point. It took so long because I wrote a far shorter, less angsty chapter and then pretty much had to start from scratch when I realised that that actually wasn't the direction I wanted to take it in. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Let me know in the comments what you thought - every comment honestly makes my heart soar.

**Author's Note:**

> So, we love the ineffable husbands and they'll certainly be making appearances but I was desperate for more content for these two and more Warlock content in general, so here we go folks. Hope you'll join me for the ride. 
> 
> Expect eventual Warlock and Crowley resolving their issues because Crowley raised that kid and you can't tell me that she wasn't a parent by the end of those eleven years.


End file.
